The Gods of Dragons (vol 1)
by ShawnCameron
Summary: Centuries have passed since the death of the dragons, their loss reshaping the world. From the destruction, the kingdoms of man have risen into a civilization of law. But there are stirrings in the kingdom of Daanlin, and the paladins who rule must decide if it is wise to bring back their greatest allies if it also means the return of their greatest enemies. (18 starts in Ch16)
1. Behind Blue Eyes

**Aujir 35, 1096**

_Breathe..._

The birds of early spring were chirping noisily at each other. The old man acknowledged the sound, then let it go.

_Breathe..._

Children were chattering as they were released from lessons for the afternoon. The monk inhaled the noise and exhaled it again.

_Breathe..._

"There he is!" Veon-Zih opened a single eye to see three boys, just shy of maturity, run past. The smallest of the three was pointing to a fourth boy, younger, his hair the color of onyx and cut short.

"You'll get it this time tough guy!" they jeered. The dark-haired boy and Master Veon-Zih frowned almost in unison.

Sighing, the lone boy, little-black-hair, attempted to walk past the other three, only looking up when they blocked his path. "I don't want to fight you Nedar," he stated.

Veon-Zih arched an eyebrow, still observing with only one eye. Little-black-hair looked resigned more than scared and, honestly exasperated with the situation. Was this bullying a regular occurrence? He wouldn't have believed the priests of Pelor to allow such behavior from their charges.

The old monk opened both eyes as the trio of older boys formed a triangle around the younger. The black-haired boy was still focused on the largest, who had crossed his arms and scoffed when the younger had voiced his desire for peace. "You really think you're tough don't you?" antagonized the largest, presumably Nedar.

"Not really," shrugged the boy dismissively. But that only seemed to annoy Nedar further and he struck out, pushing the younger boy back and into the arms of the others who immediately shoved him forward again. It seemed the maneuver had been rehearsed. Veon-Zih jumped to his feet intending to intervein, only to stop a moment later.

The younger boy's eyes had gone wide as he fell back, but they narrowed again when he found himself going forward toward Nedar's fist. Dipping his right shoulder to dodge the blow and lifting his left hand, the littlest boy grasped and pulled Nedar's punch farther forward than was obviously intended. Trying to regain his lost balance Nedar took a step, or would have, if little-black-hair hadn't placed his leg in the way. Instead, Nedar found himself in the arms of his co-conspirators as little-black-hair pivoted around to keep his front to them, hands up in a primitive boxing stance. The older boys cursed as they struggled to untangle themselves from each other and face the younger boy.

Veon-Zih was almost impressed enough that he considered standing by to see what would happen next... almost. The monk cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known and smirked as four sets of eyes swiveled his way. The older boys cursed again and made a break for it, running around the nearest corner, shoes sliding as they went. Apparently, Veon-Zih had been right to think it wasn't the first time they would be in trouble for ganging up on the young one. As for the young one in question, rather than run, little-black-hair lowered his hands turning to fully face Veon-Zih, giving the monk a good look at the boy's face.

He was definitely young, maybe around ten or eleven, if the monk could be a judge of such things, with the pale skin of the region and the most shocking light blue eyes Veon-Zih had ever seen.

The old monk couldn't tell if the icy blue shade was as intense as it initially seemed or if it was a result of the contrast with his dark hair, but either way they seemed to pierce his soul after they had scanned his peasants' garb and made their way unblinking back to his own brown orbs.

"Thank you," little-black-hair said, his young voice clear but quiet.

Veon-Zih waited for more, but the boy didn't say anything else, stopping his study of the monk and looking in the direction the bullies had fled. "Have they been trying things like that for long?"Veon-Zih prompted.

The young boy shrugged, "For a month or so." He shrugged again, "They'll get tired of it eventually, or that's what father Branston says," he looked back to Veon-Zih and finished with, "or they'll win and it will be over." It didn't sound like he cared either way and Veon-Zih felt the manufactured rivalry would end with this boy. Assuming the bullies ever did manage to win, and considering that presumably untaught maneuver the monk wasn't sure that could happen. At least not before one or all of them left the church for their apprenticeships at maturity.

"What's your name boy?" The monk knew the church didn't train their charges in martial combat. They may allow the priests of Kord to hold a tournament or two for their holiday celebrations, but that was the extent of it, meaning this young kid had some natural talent the monk was very interested in...

"Shon. What's yours?"

"Veon-Zih. I am a monk of the Ryukyu Monastery."

Shon scrunched his face slightly. "Is that some kind of priest?" he asked.

"Not really." Veon-Zih took a moment to scratch his chin in thought, "Well not in my case. Some monks are more spiritually inclined than others." He let his hand fall away from his face, "My focus is as a sort of specialized fighter. It is my goal to perfect my art by honing my body and mind into the most powerful weapons they are capable of becoming." Shon's eyebrows went up a bit at that causing Veon-Zih to smile mischievously, the boy was intrigued. "I specialize in unarmed and unarmored combat." he finished.

Shon looked down scrunching his face again, apparently considering his words before looking back up at the master monk. "So, you can fight even if you have no weapons, and survive even if you have no armor?"

Veon-Zih nodded, "That is correct." Shon tilted his head and Veon-Zih couldn't tell if he was thinking or waiting for more, so he continued, "Would you be interested in such skills? In training at our monastery?" The young boy looked up, his eyes wide and excited, showing his age for a moment before he exhaled, and his face seemed to droop.

"I can't," Shon sounded genuinely disappointed, "I'm going to the temple of Heironeous at maturity." to train with the paladins.

Veon-Zih was visibly taken aback. Children in the care of the church were apprenticed out at thirteen, maturity, but their destination wasn't decided until much closer to that age, and even then it wasn't set in stone. "If you really want to, I'm sure…"

"No." Shon interrupted curtly, then blushed at his rudeness; meeting Veon-Zih's eyes again, he continued "I was always going to the Paladins." His surety left no room for argument and the monk felt a pang of disappointment at the loss of such a promising student, followed by another pang of confusion and sadness that such a young boy would so quickly give up on other options for a future that had been decided for him.

"But… that's not for another three years…" Shon started to smile. It was a small subtle thing, if Veon-Zih hadn't just seen the child's disappointed expression he may not have noticed the change right away. "Could you teach me before then?" Shon looked so hopeful that the monk was again shocked by how incredibly blue his eyes were.

"Teach you what exactly?" Veon-Zih asked.

"How to train." the response was so fast and confident it was clear Shon thought the answer should have been obvious. Veon-Zih was again intrigued.

"I will have to think about it," the monk carefully watched the boys face with his answer, but it hardly changed.

"When will you know?" that earlier fleeting look of excitement had returned to stay and Veon-Zih had to stop himself from agreeing right away. Instead, he made a show of considering the question, crossing his arms and stroking his chin again.

"Tomorrow morning, around dawn." he stopped stroking his chin and pointed to the large central tree in the courtyard, "I will meet you there."

Shon's eyes followed Veon-Zih's pointing finger to the tree and nodded sharply once. "Okay."

"But now you should probably go to lunch before it's gone, or worse, cold." Shon's brow furrowed a little and he nodded again before turning in the direction of the kitchen and starting off. A boy of few words that one. Veon-Zih's arms were still crossed as he watched the young boy walk away. "Teach you how to train hu?" the monk mumbled under his breath before shaking his head and moving off to find the head priest.

* * *

"Ah! Master Veon-Zih. You haven't aged a day!" Father Branston greeted his old friend with open arms, catching him in a bear hug before the old monk would have a chance to protest, not that he would have.

"I would say the same of you old friend but…" Veon-Zih looked down at the large belly between them, "I make it a point not to lie. Except in very special circumstances." Far from being offended the old priest laughed, making the belly in question jiggle.

"It's easy to let yourself go when you don't have to go trekking up and down the countryside, keeping up with a monk who seems to forget that he can move significantly faster than his companions." Branston laughed again as he let go of his friend, moving to have a seat behind his desk with a satisfied sigh. "I hope you're not here to try and talk me into some adventure or other. I've been off the road for twelve years and I don't plan on getting back on it now."

Veon-Zih rolled his eyes and took his own seat at the desk. The exchange was practically rehearsed, "That's what you say every time I come to visit. I gave up trying to seduce you back to the road eight years ago."

"Good." the priest nodded curtly, though he was still smiling, "I'd never accuse you of being an unintelligent man." Father Branston reached for the pot of tea he kept on his desk, setting out two small cups and pouring as he spoke. "That isn't to say I wouldn't love to hear stories of your continued adventures…" he passed the monk a cup with an expectant look.

"I have a few…" Veon-Zih let his voice trail off as he took a sip of the tea, "but first, I would like a story from you."

Father Branston lifted both of his eyebrows at that, taking a sip of his own tea. "Really? And what story do you expect to hear from an old priest of a quiet church?"

"Well, I ran into a rather interesting young boy a little while ago. Around ten years old, and the bluest eyes you've ever seen,"

"Shon," Father Branston said right away. "He is an interesting one. Natural fighter, and quite the artist."

Considering how many charges the church cared for over the years Shon must be an exceptional child for the head priest to know instantly who Veion-Zih had meant, and by name. "I saw evidence of his combat skills. Some older boys decided to gang up on him." Father Branston looked up sharply at that and Veon-Zih smiled to reassure him. "They didn't get very far. He had them unbalanced in a single move."

The priest nodded, "They have been determined to beat him ever since he won the tournament the Kord priests conducted for the children last season." he set his cup down and tapped the finger of one hand on his desk as he spoke, "it started out nice enough, they would challenge him to a rematch with a judge and everything. He always accepted and always won. Shon isn't one to gloat but he also refuses to throw a fight, even when the boys started to get desperate enough to try surprise attacks after meals and before bed."

"That is quite interesting," Veon-Zih took another sip of tea, "but what really surprised me was his insistence that he was going to join the Paladins of Heironeous when he reached maturity…" the monk watched his friends face and was surprised again when the old priest nodded and refilled his own tea before answering the obvious question showing on Veon-Zih's face.

"Yes. like I said, he is an interesting one. He was actually dropped off at the temple of Heironeous and not here." Veon-Zih was visually taken aback by that. The devotees of Heironeous were good people, if a bit militant, but they didn't care for children. Father Branston nodded in agreement with Veon-Zih's surprise, "yes, newborn and in the dead of winter. They brought him here but we both decided it would be best if he returned to them at maturity."

"You think there is a reason he was left with the followers of Heironeous rather than Pelor?" Veon-Zih inquired.

"Everyone who lives in this province knows the church of Pelor takes charge of the orphans of the region until they are old enough to apprentice. It's not as if our buildings are easily mistaken." The monk smirked at that, the temples of Heironeous were built as a military fortresses, and often doubled as such. There was no way their towering parapets of smoothly chiseled stone could be mistaken for the welcoming face offered by the church of Pelor.

"I can see your reasoning," Veon-Zih took a long moment to finish his tea and contemplate the situation and his words. It still seemed a bit much that a boy of his age should already be set on a destination that may not be the best possible fit, but at the same time, the boy in question seemed as accepting as the adults who made the decision.

The silence stretched between them and Veon-Zih had he tea refilled before he spoke again, "He asked if I would teach him before he went to train with the Paladins. I would like to say yes… but only with your permission."

"I don't see why not." Father Branston finished his second cup of tea in one final swig, "Perhaps after he has spent some time with the Paladins Rasnih will decide it wasn't fate after all and Shon will choose to join you." the old cleric turned priest smiled with a little twinkle in his eye, "does this mean I will be seeing you more than twice a year?"

"Perhaps," the monk returned his old friends smile and set his cup back on the desk for another refill. "Maybe I will come for solstices as well as the equinoxes."

Father Branston laughed and reached for the teapot again, his belly shaking with the mirth and movement, "but until then…" he poured the monk a new cup before refiling his own, "you owe me a few stories."

* * *

The stars had just begun to fade as Veon-Zih made his way to the courtyard to meet with the young boy Shon. It was still a while before dawn and the monk had every intention of meditating on his plans for training this particularly interesting boy before seeing him again. However, it seemed the boy in question had a similar idea in mind.

As the monk rounded the large tree he stopped short at the sight of the young boy sitting amongst the roots, arms crossed and head slowly lauling down as he dozed off in the early morning darkness. Veon-Zih allowed his foot to drag along some fallen leaves and Shon's head shot up with a start. Apparently, he hadn't meant to doze as he waited. He was just a young boy after all.

"Dawn is still a ways off. Did you stay here all night?" Veon-Zih asked, resting one hand on the tree and beginning to reach the other out to help the boy up.

Shon scrambled to his feet without taking the hand and quickly dusted himself off before answering. "No sir," he looked away almost nervously, "I didn't know exactly how much before dawn so I came early…" his eyes snapped back to the monk as though Shon had just realized he had looked away, "have you decided if you want to teach me?" It was obvious the boy was trying to contain his excitement, he was pretty good at it considering his age, but the way he leaned slightly forward and how his eyes had widened just a bit gave him away.

Master Veon-Zih put on his serious face and waited for a moment, judging Shon's reaction at his pause. Shon merely waited, blinking up at him for the answer he was sure would be coming. He had impressive patience for a ten-year-old. Finally, the monk nodded "Yes, I have decided I will train you. But only so long as you are an obedient and willing student, you have not apprenticed to me officially." Shon nodded sharply his brow furrowed and his small fists clenched in determination.

The monk stepped away from the tree and motioned for Shon to follow, "Good. Now, you may address me as Master Veon-Zih, or just Mater. We will start with the basic stances and strikes, if you can master them then we will move on to full forms." Veon-Zih scanned the boy from black head to small booted toe and began to slowly circle him as he spoke. "First the stances. The first will be the horse stance, your feet need to be shoulder width and a half apart, and bend your knees like you are sitting astride a horse. Like this." Master Veon-Zih squatted down into the stance in question as he circled back to Shon's front again. Shon tried to mimic the master, squatting down arms bent and fists clenched at his waist.

"Lower… Lower…" the monk moved closer and gently kicked the inside of Shon's legs forcing them wider. "Good. Now point your toes forward." Shon looked down at his feet as he adjusted them accordingly. "Good, now turn your hands so your knuckles are down and your fingers are up." Veon-Zih reached out to adjust the boy's hands but stopped suddenly as Shon pulled away.

"Sorry." Shon stuttered as he exhaled and visibly tried to relax, adjusting his hands in the process.

Veon-Zih squinted down at the young boy. He didn't seem like the flinchy type, but he had definitely moved away from the monk's touch. "It's alright…" the Master stepped back and again took his own stance, watching Shon closely. "This will be your primary stance for many of the strikes I will show you today. Your legs will get tired so check your stance regularly and fix it when necessary."

The master monk then began to show him some of the strikes he would be doing in this position, naming each and watching as Shon mirrored his movement. However, when Veon-Zih touched the boy's hand to adjust his fist Shon flinched again. This time Veon-Zih didn't stop or pull away. "You don't like being touched do you…"

Shon shook his head, but didn't try to pull away, "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," the monk finished adjusting the boys punch, turning his fist slightly to a three-quarter angle, "your hands are cold, are you sure you haven't been out here too long?"

Shon shook his head again, "No Master Veon-Zih, my hands are always cold," he looked away not meeting the monk's eyes, "everyone says so." Veon-Zih arched an eyebrow at that. The boy's hands weren't just a little cold, they were like ice, significantly cooler than the balmy spring air could explain. As he held Shon's fist a little longer it felt as though the cold was pulling the heat away from his skin but without warming the boy's fingers in return. It was disconcerting and it wouldn't surprise Veon-Zih if it was usually the ones reaching out to Shon that flinched away first rather than the other way around.

"Are you uncomfortable? Do you feel cold?" again the boy shook his head and Veon-Zih watched his blue eyes, eyes like ice, for any sign of nervousness or discomfort as he continued to hold Shon's fist. He saw none. Either Shon had gotten used to it or he had enough control not to show the discomfort, either way, Veon-Zih let go of Shon's hand to continue the lesson.

They went through four more stances and five kicks. Shon twitched a little each time the monk reached out and adjusted him but Master Veon-Zih ignored it, continuing as if nothing was amiss.

"You will do one-hundred punches and kicks every day. You may decide when you do them and in what order so long as they get done. I will know if you don't practice." Shon nodded, his eyes narrowed in determination, "I am leaving tomorrow evening, tomorrow morning we will go through the techniques again to make sure you have them correct while I am gone."

The boy looked up obviously concerned. "When will you be back?" Shon asked, his eyes darting around the monk's face as he waited for the answer.

"Around the Summer solstice, I think. It doesn't really matter, I will know if you have practiced every day or not." he watched as Shon's eyes dropped in disappointment before they shot back up again.

"I will not disobey Master Veon-Zih, I will practice every day. 100 punches and 100 kicks." he sounded earnest and Veon-Zih's mouth quirked up in an involuntary half-smile. So much for the stern master facade...

"See to it that you do." Veon-Zih responded before turning away, "but now it is time for breakfast, the sun has already come up and we didn't even notice." Shon nodded and began to head towards the dining area when the monk called him back.

"One last thing Shon." the boy turned back cocking his head to listen, "In this discipline, it is customary to bow to each other before and after each practice session. Like this." Veon-Zih placed his right hand into his left palm and bowed slightly at the waist. Shon turned fully to face the monk and mirrored the motion with his left fist in his right palm. The old man arched an eyebrow, "you're left-handed?" he asked.

Shon blinked, startled and moved to fix his hands but Veon-Zih waved them down. "It's alright, it's alright," crossing his arms and stroking his chin he said, "it is just something to keep in mind as we move on. If you feel you are significantly stronger in one side than the other." he gestured to Shon's left, "then you should double the exercises with your weaker side," he gestured to Shon's right.

Shon looked down at his hands then back up at Veon-Zih, "Yes Master Veon-Zih." again he placed his left fist in his right palm and bowed to the monk, who returned the gesture with a smile.

"Until next time young Shon." and with that, they went their separate ways to breakfast, Shon with the other children in the care of the church, and Veon-Zih with the priests and Father Branston. He had many more stories from the road to share with the old man after all.


	2. Ghost of Days Gone By

**Charir 30, 1096**

"Sir Rasnih?" Rasnih looked up from her papers as a young paladin poked his head around her office door. He looked nervous and she arched one severe steely eyebrow at him. "You have a visitor. He claims he's an old friend…" the young man's voice trailed off as the door was swung further open by the visitor in question.

Rasnih smiled and set her papers down, getting to her feet. "Veon-Zih. What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you until the Fall equinox."

The paladin guard sighed and stepped back to his assigned position on the other side of the door. Rasnih and Veon-Zih ignored him, clasping wrists in the middle of the large office. "Something came up." the monk said taking his had back for his customary bow, "I've taken a student. One of the children under Father Branston's care over at the church."

taking note of the monk's choice of words, Rasnih motioned for her friend to take one of the seats by the large window commenting "Oh? Not an apprentice bound for the monastery then?" she took the chair opposite Veon-Zih, the chains on her uniform chiming against each other as she moved.

"Sadly no. The boy is still a few years off from maturity, and bound to you at that point." Veon-Zih nodded at the Paladin who's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh?" she said again, "what was his name again… Shon was it? What do you think of him?" she sat in her chair like a queen, back straight and head high, for her, it looked downright relaxed.

Veon-Zih crossed his arms and stroked his chin, a familiar gesture, "well I met him last season and left him with some drills. one-hundred punches and kicks every day."

The monk continued to stroke his chin and Rasnih rolled her eyes before insisting he continue, "Yes. And did he do them as assigned?"

"In a manner of speaking…" Master Veon-Zih dropped his hand as he explained, "you see I left the instructions rather vague didn't I? Did I want him to do 100 total punches? So 20 of each of the five I gave him? Or 100 of each punch? 50 of each hand?" he leaned forward keeping his eyes on Rasnih. He knew she could appreciate disciplined practice as much as any monk, "it seems young Shon didn't know exactly what I wanted either, So he decided on 100 punches on each hand for each punch. Same for the kicks. He did 2,000 total punches and kicks every day since I left two and a half months ago."

The Paladin was taken aback and her eyebrows shot up into her dark gray hair, "you said he was still a few years from maturity? So 11 or 12?"

"Ten," Veon-Zih answered leaning back into his chair again. "Thought not like any ten-year old I've met before."

Sir Rasnih, head of the Paladin Order of the Sword and Temple of Heironeous in Smilnda, took a moment to look pensive out of her window. The young Paladins, only recently oath sworn and transferred from the Hammerfoss training facility were doing their drills in the courtyard. "He was left with the Temple a few years before I was transferred here, and I honestly don't remember the details…" still facing the window her eyes glanced back at her old monk companion, "but my predecessor seemed to think it was important that he come back to us at maturity." she exhaled softly and turned back to Master Veon-Zih, "I wouldn't say no to changing that plan if you think it better that he train at your monastery."

But Veon-Zih was already shaking his head, "That's what I told him, but he believes that the plan has always been he would come here and that he needs to follow through with it." the old monk shrugged, and with a sigh said "perhaps he will change his mind between now and then but I get the feeling he won't."

The old adventurer smiled and leaned forward again, "but as fascinating as Shon is I'm here to see you! How has retirement from the road been treating you?"

Sir Rasnih rolled her eyes again, picking up her hands and dropping them on her lap again in exasperation, "Some retirement. I'm working harder now than I ever did on assignment. Branston too. Don't let that belly fool you, running an entire temple, or church in his case, is difficult and constant. The paperwork! The paperwork never stops!"

Veon-Zih laughed out loud, throwing his head back and slapping his thigh, "There! That is why I will never retire to the monastery!"

Rasnih scowled, "you won't retire to the monastery because the monastery isn't fool enough to ask you too. If they wanted you to, you wouldn't disobey a direct command."

The master monk continued to chuckle, "true, true. But as you say, they aren't fool enough."

The Paladin shook her head and glanced back to the papers on her desk. "Speaking of adventures and the road," she said rising to her feet and heading back to her desk, "do you remember that smuggling operation we stopped in Halakon?"

Veon-Zih also got to his feet, "Halakon? The one with the supposed dragon artifacts and that lunatic that was ranting about the elements being out of balance?"

"That's the one," Rasnih picked up one of the papers on her desk, looked it over then put it back down to pick up another.

"That was over 35 years ago Ras. That was the same mission where we met Velona." he started moving towards the desk and Rasnih looked over her shoulder at him, a rather sly look in her eye.

"I knew you would remember. How is Master Velona anyway?" she went back to looking at her papers as Veon-Zih stopped moving and blushed.

He took a moment to clear his throat, "She is well. She took a position as a trainer at her monastery." it was clear he didn't want to continue the talk of Velona.

Rasnih took the hint and moved on. "Well it seems as though we may not have stopped the operation." she placed one more paper down and picked up the last one, turning to face the monk with it in her hand, "I've received reports from some of the southern temples. It seems someone is stealing family heirlooms their owners claim are made of dragon scale." she held the paper out to Veon-Zih who took it and scanned it quickly.

"Dragon scale is a restricted magical substance and very valuable. It can't be that unusual for someone to want to steal it…" but he trailed off as he reached the bottom of the report. "They gave one back?"

"With a note," she gestured at the paper and he continued reading. "It just said 'Fake', and the idem was pretty heavily damaged."

Veon-Zih furrowed his brow and handed the report back to Rasnih, "you think there are more dragon fanatics like the one we caught then?"

The Paladin shrugged, placing the paper back on her desk. "Perhaps, I figured since you had some experience from last time you might be interested in investigating. Maybe Hallowwolf will go with you."

Veon-Zih shook his head and rubbed his chin again, "Kolral never leaves her forest these days, plenty to do there she says. Though maybe she will come out for this. Assuming she didn't 'retire' like the rest of you old folks." he couldn't help but grin at his old companion from behind his hand.

Kolral Hallowwolf, a ranger of the southern woods, and Sir Rasnih, Paladin of Heironeous were always at odds. Rasnih thought Kolral lacked discipline and focus and Kolral seemed to think Rasnih stored a spare sword in her nether regions. The boys of their group never tired of pitting the two ladies against each other, at least until the two joined forces to gang up on one of them…

Rasnih looked away with a snort, she wouldn't dare call the monk undisciplined, "Either way. My southern counterparts are sending some young Paladins to investigate and I'm sure they could use someone with a bit more experience if you find your way down there."

"I think I may," Veon-Zih said, dropping his hands, "I was planning on leaving in a week or so anyway. Might as well stop and see Kolral on my way." The two old companions moved toward the office door, Rasnih reaching out to open it.

The young Paladin on the other side of the door snapped to attention as the monk exited. "Would you care to join Father Branston and I for supper tonight?"

Sir Rasnih smiled warmly, "I would love to, I don't get out of the temple often enough I feel."

* * *

**Orn 20, 1099**

Veon-Zih tapped on the door to the boy's dorm sharply before pushing it open without waiting for an answer. All but one of the boys were in their morning lessons, and the one left wouldn't mind someone just walking in, after all, it wasn't really his room anymore. He stood by the bed nearest the door as he carefully packed all of his belongings into a canvas traveling pack given to him by the church when he had reached maturity.

Shon's back was to the door but he glanced over his shoulder at the knock and after placing the last item in the bag turned fully to face the master monk. "Master Veon-Zih," he said in a flat voice, "I didn't think you were going to be here this season."

The master monk tilted his head with a smile and stepped further into the room, "I didn't want to get your hopes up if I hadn't managed to make it." Shon smiled very slightly at that, "but I rushed to make it, and just in time it seems." he tilted his chin at the full pack.

Shon looked over his shoulder at the pack as well and sighed, "I didn't think I would be bothered by leaving… but I feel... heavy, for some reason."

"Well this was your home for the last thirteen years," Veon-Zih crossed his arms stroking his chin in a familiar gesture, "it would be more strange not to feel something." he shrugged, "so long as you don't forget everything you learned and experienced here it won't be a loss, only a change." like the boy had said, he had not only known he was leaving but exactly where he would be going for many years now.

Shon's eyes widened and he said quickly and earnestly "I won't forget anything. Look," he twisted back to his pack and snatched out what looked like a well-worn book bound in soft leather. As Shon opened it to a page near the back Veon-Zih could see that the journal was nearly full. Glancing over the boys head as he flipped through the last few pages to find the one he was looking for, the monk saw at least two other similar journals in the pack, all well used and probably full.

"Here!" Shon presented the journal to Veon-Zih who quickly looked back.

"Oh, wow." his eyes widened and he reached out to take the book and get a closer look.

Shon let him have it but turned his eyes down, his voice soft with embarrassment, "I know it's not perfect but they are only to remind me, not to teach from scratch…" his voice trailed off but the old monk had barely registered the sentence anyway.

The book contained a series of sketches, a figure performing each move of the first fighting form, kata, Veon-Zih had taught Shon. It had curved arrows showing the directions the hands and feet were supposed to move and little labels underneath with the name of the strikes or stances in small neat handwriting.

There were notes in the margins and scribbled between the pictures, some had been crossed out and rewritten with more accuracy, others circled for emphasis. Veon-Zih, turned the page and saw similar sketches and notes of a different kata he had taught Shon. He flipped a few pages back towards the middle of the book and saw an entry labeled with the date from the previous week.

He didn't read the entry, partially out of respect for Shon's privacy and partially because the pictures amongst and around the writing distracted him. He vaguely remembered Father Branston telling him the boy was a talented artist but he had never seen any of the work before.

Veon-Zih glanced up at Shon, but the boy's eyes were glued to the floor.

He flipped the book to the beginning and flipped through a few more pages, "these are very good Shon. though I didn't just mean my training…" after all the church hadn't only taken him in, they had taught him to read and write, and he was given an education and opportunities many young children would never have.

Veon-Zih looked up for a moment to see Shon nod at the floor in acknowledgment. When the monk looked back to the journal he stopped with a little gasp and a chuckle.

"I remember this… I wouldn't have believed that you would want to though…" Shon's eyes shot up and he reached out to tilt the book down and look upside down at the page in question.

One side was the dated entry for the event, opposite it was a set of pictures. The first depicted a slightly younger Shon attempting to mimic a very high kick that Veon-Zih was doing beside him. The next showed how Shon's head had struck the tree roots behind them his legs sprawled above him. The last had Shon sitting on the ground as Veon-Zih cleaned the large gash on the left side of his head. The old monk looked closer and chuckled a little again. The little depiction of himself seemed to be smiling in the last picture and he remembered the event clearly. He HAD laughed, but he had also tried to reassure the young and very embarrassed boy that he had done similar when he had tried to stretch higher than his flexibility and balance would allow in training.

"It's probably not exactly right. I was trying to draw how I thought it might look from the outside…" Shon let his hand slide off the book and Veon-Zih flipped through a few more pages. It seemed like Shon liked to draw the things and people he could see, there were very few, if any, other drawings of himself.

"It is very well done, Shon." he lowered the book to hand it back to the boy, who still looked incredibly embarrassed, as he focused on a spot in one of the far corners of the room rather than look directly at the monk. "Perhaps I will commission a drawing to remember you by." Shon finally looked up to meet his eyes and Veon-Zih smiled at him.

Shon took his book back, and flipping to the day of that embarrassing accident proceeded to very carefully remove the page with just the pictures on it. He took a moment to flip it over and check the back, more sketches, these of some of the elderly priests of the church feeding a litter of young kittens outside the kitchen door, before handing the page to Veon-Zih. "So you don't forget."

Master Veon-Zih took the page in silence swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, "Shon," he rested his free hand on the boy's shoulder. Shon didn't flinch, something he had only stopped doing in the past year or so. "I will never forget you. And not only because I will still be seeing you." Shon's face lit up with what seemed like both hope and confusion at the same time and the monk smiled again, "You will be going to the Temple of Heironeous, only a block away, for your first year before going to finish your training as a Paladin squire in the Northern fortress of Hammerfoss. I have been known to visit both in my travels." he bent slightly to bring himself closer to eye level with Shon, "Assuming you wouldn't find my visits to distracting?"

Shon shook his head vigorously, "never!" he tilted his head to the side and said slowly, "would… would you spar with me when you visit? I don't want to lose any of the training you've given me…"

Veon-Zih tilted his head back and let out a full belly laugh. "oh yes. You can count on it. How else am I supposed to keep my skill up to par with the next generation?" that earned him one of Shon's small slight smiles, as the boy nodded sharply before turning back to his bag.

He packed the journal, the last of his possessions from the church of Pelor, before slinging it over his shoulder. He nodded again to Master Veon-Zih, who solemnly held the door open for the boy to step through to the next chapter of his life.


	3. Simple Kind of Life

**Vutha 03, 1101**

Shon reached up to his neck to adjust the leather armor for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It chafed both literally and figuratively as he walked beside the supply wagon, trying to avoid the larger puddles in the road while still keeping his eyes on the forest around them. He was finally on his way to the northern Paladin training fortress of Hamerfoss. It was his first time out of Smilnda city, and the temple Paladins had told Shon and the other two new squires to keep their eyes on the forest. It was their first job as squires to guard the supply wagon to Hamerfoss and none of the boys wanted to disappoint.

It had rained the night before, and the hard-packed road was muddy and dotted with puddles of dubious depth. After Thom, smallest of the three, had his boot fully submerged in one such puddle, they had all started avoiding them as best they could.

The going was slow, with the laden wagon and the walking squires, but they were almost there. Almost being a relative term. They were still many hours away, but as they had been walking for the last two days, it was still 'almost' to the road-weary boys.

Rerves, the third squire, and the largest, fiddled with the short sword on his belt again. He had reached over to move the sheath about as many times has Shon had tried to adjust his armor. The three boys had trained only minimally with the swords and armor they now wore. Most of the year they had spent in the Temple of Heironeous was spent learning the proper way to clean and care for not only their equipment but the equipment of all the Paladins stationed in the city. They had learned the vocabulary associated with all the weapons and armor that they would be training with after they reached Hamerfoss, and were drilled daily on the tenets and precepts of the Temple. If it hadn't been for the exercises and forms Master Veon-Zih had given him Shon felt he would have been driven mad by boredom.

Shon had just started to try and pass the time walking by acting out another form in his mind's eye when the cart was pulled to a halt with a soft "Woh…" by the driver. The three boys looked to the driver in unison and seeing him squinting into the distance, turned their gaze in that direction.

From behind the trees and a bend in the road came a large man in what looked like a set of well worn half-plate armor. His hair was dark with streaks of grey throughout and strapped across his back was a massive ax.

"Hail traveler!" his voice was deep and booming as he waved to the little caravan, "what brings you along my road on this fine, if a bit wet, day?" he stood akimbo and taped his toe in the edge of one of the puddles with a small chuckle.

The squires looked to the driver again, not sure what to say or do in this situation. The driver furrowed his brow at the large man and shouted back, "we are on our way to Hamerfoss good sir." his confusion was clear, as the road only had one destination this close to the fortress.

The large man brought one hand up to stroke his scruffy beard, "Hamerfoss is it? Well, then I suppose the toll ye pay will be coming out of the Paladin's coffers…" Shon and the other squires turned their heads again to look at the driver. It was as if their necks were on a swivel as they looked back and forth between the two men.

"There is no toll on this road good sir." the driver reached for his sword. Thom and Rerves hesitated, looking back and forth for another moment, before reaching for their own weapons. Shon sunk into a fighting stance, sliding his feet farther apart and bringing up his hands. The other squires looked at each other before Throm whispered "Shon, your sword." Shon looked over, confused for a moment, before grabbing the short sword with a small "oh," of embarrassment.

The driver and the large man ignored the boys, and the bandit chuckled again, but instead of reaching for his ax he brought his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. The squires jumped as four men came out of the woods surrounding them and the wagon, naked swords bared and faces obscured with hoods.

"Stay with the wagon!" the driver shouted to the boys, drawing his sword and jumping down as the large bandit moved closer. With the two leaders otherwise distracted the young squires looked wide-eyed at each other before the four highwaymen attacked. Two went for the larger Rerves, while the others split up going for Shon and Thom individually.

Shon tried to relax, to stay alert and ready to move, but his hand was sweating as it clinched hard to his sword. He focused on the bandit heading his way, holding his ground and lifting his sword to the guard position the Temple had taught him. His attacker was quite a bit taller then he was, and Shon had to raise his sword above his head as the first swing came down hard from the left.

The hilt shook in Shon's hand, but his attacker didn't hesitate to swing again, this time aiming for Shon's leg. Clenching his teeth, Shon pivoted his sword down to block the hit again, but miss judged the length of his blade. The flat edge of the long sword struck Shon's thigh, and if it hadn't been for his solid stance, Shon was sure the limb would have buckled. As the shock of the hit ran threw him the attacker flicked his sword up from inside Shon's guard, knocking the weapon from his hand. The small sword flew free but Shon was already moving, striking out with his free right hand at his attackers extended arm. With his now free left hand Shon struck the same arm from the outside, the combined strike caused the attackers elbow to bend awkwardly in, and he twisted his body in an instinctual effort to try and save the joint, bringing his head lower and lining it up for Shon to strike out with his right hand.

Stunned, his attacker reeled back, gripping his nose under his hood and cursing loudly. One of Rerves' attackers looked over and moved to disengage from his two on one fight to aid his friend who was now backing away from Shon as fast as he could. Shon only hesitated a moment before dashing back to retrieve his fallen short sword.

He felt unbalanced with the weapon in hand and tried to shift his weight to offset the difference. He barely had enough time to bring the sword to bear as the second attacker swung at his right side. Shon managed to absorb some of the force of the blow, but his arm buckled against the strike and his opponent's longsword hit his upper arm with a painful smack. The hit hadn't fully registered in his mind when the new attacker shoved his shoulder into Shon's chest trying to throw him off balance.

It worked. Shon fell to the ground with a soft splash and a smack as he habitually swung his hands down to slap the ground and break some of the energy of the fall, just as Master Veon-Zih had taught him. The attacker didn't follow through with a thrust at the prone boy instead looking over at the companion Shon had punched. Shon wasted no time. No sooner had his shoulders hit the ground then he was kicking up, his legs scissoring to either side of his attackers, kicking him behind the knee and into his thigh at the same time. The bigger man went down, and Shon swung his legs up again, rolling back onto his shoulder blades before jumping up to a standing position. Or at least trying to. The leather armor was heavy and awkward, and he wobbled when he landed on his feet. As he moved to regain his balance another whistle rang out from the front of the caravan.

As one, the attackers disengaged from their respective defending squires. The one Shon had knocked down rolled twice away and was helped up by his companion sporting a bloody nose. The squires didn't pursue; their hands shook with adrenaline as their eyes tried to dart every way at once to keep everything in view.

"Stand down squires." it was the driver. The man sheathed his sword and moved back towards the wagon, but the young boys just glanced quickly at each other before looking back at their attackers, still very much on edge. It wasn't until the attackers in question also sheathed their weapons that the squires began to slowly straighten, looking between their diver, the lead bandit, their attackers, and each other in quick succession.

"You all did very well," the driver said, reaching out to make sure the horses were still calm. They had hardly moved, and Shon started to suspect they may be war horses.

"Not bad, not bad." the lead bandit began to move forward, slinging his ax back over his shoulder as he moved. Rather than being reassured by the gesture, the squires all dropped back down into their fighting stance and the driver had to snap at them.

"It was a test boys. Relax and sheath your swords before you hurt yourselves." the lead 'bandit' laughed out loud at that. It was a booming sound that shook his belly as he threw his head back and planted his fists firmly on his hips again.

"First time seeing battle, even a mock one, and you can't help but be on edge," he said. He gestured, and his four underlings removed their hoods. The one with the bloody nose still had it pinched, and his head tilted back.

Mock battle… Shon's leg and arm throbbed painfully with every heartbeat, and his knuckles stung as he clenched and unclenched his fists to try and relax. The ringleader continued, "These, young squires, are going to be the newest Paladins of the order. After the ceremony next month." the four attackers saluted. The younger squires exchanged glances again and finally put their swords away. "And I," the man slapped his chest, "am your new weapon master. Master Daunas Mung. it will be my job to train you in combat at Hamerfoss."

Rerves was the first to recover, he smiled, but his voice held a hint of sarcasm, "I wish I could say it's nice to meet you Master Daunas." he tried to laugh a little, "perhaps once my heart has stopped trying to beat its way out of my chest." that caused the weapon master to laugh again, and Thom smiled nervously at Shon, who was taking slow, measured breaths to calm his own heart.

It seemed things would not be so boring in Hamerfoss as they had been in Smilnda.

* * *

The fortress of Hamerfoss was one of the oldest structures still being utilized by the Order of the Sword, as such it wasn't nearly as visually impressive as some of the larger temple fortresses maintained in peak condition further south. Even so, the three new squires gaped at its great stone walls in awe as they approached the south gate. The outer walls where twenty stones high, at least four of the boys stacked one on top of the other, with two layers of iron gates with bars as thick as Shon's forearm.

Walking through the first gate, the boys looked up and saw the faces of older squires and Paladins looking down at them through holes in the ceiling, built for dumping hot tar or oil on invaders trapped between the two gates. Unconsciously they moved a little faster through the second gate. Beyond the wall was a large open courtyard with training dummies, archery targets and sparing rings separated by neat stone walkways. From the stable against the south wall to their right, the smell of hay and horses wafted over the whole place and the ringing "tink, tink" of a hammer on metal filled the cool air from the smithy built into the side of the keep.

"Welcome to Hamerfoss!" Master Daunas Mung gestured widely to all before them, and Shon fixed his ice blue eyes on the fortress itself, rising up like an indomitable mountain before him. It was about ten feet taller than the curtain wall, with one great tower in the center jutting up another ten feet above that. The roofs and walls were lined with battlements where archers could rain death on an invading army. Turning his head, Shon could see three of the four bastions at the corners of the curtain wall and the small moving figures that must be more squires and Paladins standing guard.

His left hand twitched as he longed to unpack his journal and draw every detail. The bare, dead looking vines covering the face of one wall, he was sure they would bloom in a few short weeks and cover the stone in green; the short, squat, smithy coming out of his workshop to wipe the sweat from his brow in the cool air of early spring; and the slack-jawed expressions of awe on his companions' faces as they tilted their heads waaay back to look at the top of the fortresses tower. But there would be plenty of time for that, after all, this would be his home for the next four years.

"Well. Don't just stand there gawkin'! Unload the wagon." Shon jumped and looking around quickly saw Thom and Rerves doing the same. Master Daunas must have startled them out of their awe as well.

Rerves cleared his throat and took charge of the three. He was prone to such things, but as Shon didn't want to be the one giving orders, he never minded. "Thom, you get the horses settled, Shon you start handing me things out of the wagon." The smallest, Thom, nodded and went straight to the horses, murmuring gently as he began removing their harness. Shon climbed into the bed of the wagon to lift one crate at a time down to the larger Rerves.

Master Daunas snorted turning away from the new boys to give orders Shon couldn't hear to the older squires who had attacked them on the road. The young men saluted in unison, and each went off in different directions. Shon tried to track them as he turned to hand another crate to Rerves but quickly lost sight of them. One had gone to the blacksmith because the squat man returned with the squire in tow. He was carrying a heavy box and waited just behind the smith as he spoke to Daunas.

"Shon, come on!" Rerves gestured with both hands impatiently, and Shon shook his head slightly handing Rerves the crate he was holding. Apparently, Shon was paying a little too much attention to Daunas and the Smith and had slowed his pace without realizing.

"Sorry." he murmured, but Rerves just took the box and set it with the others. It didn't take long for the two to finish with the wagon and Shon was hoping down just as Thom came out of the stable to meet them.

"Horses taken care of?" Shon rolled his eyes away from Rerves so he couldn't see. Of course they were, Thom wouldn't have come out otherwise…

"Yep, all settled and ready to go," Thom said with a smile and a nod. Shon was never one to waste words on things that didn't need to be said.

It seemed someone had been waiting for those words though because Master Daunas and the Smith chose that time to move forward and address the boys, "Alright lads, this here is Nurangran Flintchest. He's our resident smith here at Hamerfoss, and he will be making all of your equipment." The man was only as tall as Thom, but his shoulders and chest were broader even then Master Daunas, with hands the size of shovels and a beard that hung to the middle of his chest.

"Line up boys, smallest to largest…" he turned as he spoke, opening the box the older squire had brought and taking out a long measuring tape and a ratty looking notebook. He tossed the young man the notebook and headed toward Thom who quickly positioned himself beside Shon. "hold up your arms…" Thom did as he was told and Shon watched closely as the Smith took his measurements. Around his chest, his bicep, lower arm, from shoulder to elbow, elbow to wrist, neck to waist and much more besides. Thom stood stiff and nervous, following the old man's instructions with jerky movements.

"What sword?" Nurangran asked. Thom made a confused sound, but the Smith waved a massive hand in his face, "not you boy. Mung, what sword?" Master Mung had his arms crossed over his chest and was tilting his head back and forth from one side to the other before he finally said.

"Two hands." he then pointed at Shon saying, "Bastard." Shon wrinkled his nose. Was the weapon master upset over the bloody nose Shon had given his attacking squire? But the offense was short lived when he pointed at Rerves saying, "One hand."

Nurangran sniffed, "One of each?" he had stepped over to Shon and motioned for him to raise his arms as Thom had done. Shon stiffed but obliged, keeping his eyes fixed forward as the old man ran his measuring tape all across his body.

"Yep," Daunas answered. They were talking as if the boys weren't even there, "and that one." He nodded at Shon, "is a lefty." Nurangran snorted without comment and continued measuring.

Shon flinched as the Smith's large hand moved down to his wrist, brushing his skin before he also pulled back in surprise, his brow furrowed, "you're cold as ice boy. Nervous?"

Shon swallowed, "no sir. I'm just always cold."

"Hmmm…" the smith shrugged and went back to measuring around his wrist and up his arm, "they say cold hands make a warm heart," Nurangran muttered. Beside Shon, Rerves and Thom snickered.

"Whoever says that has never met Shon," said Thom, who had relaxed noticeably once the Smith had finished with him. Shon glared sideways at him but there was no real anger in it, and Thom snickered again.

Master Daunas did not snicker; he laughed out loud. "I see you get along well! That's good; you'll want friends in training." Shon rolled his eyes again but his lips tilted up in an almost imperceptible smile. He did get along with his fellow squires he would even go so far as to call them friends, even if they did poke fun at each other. Or maybe it was because they did.

Rerves and Thom had grown up together, their families had long ties to the Temple of Heironeous, and so they were closer to each other than either to him. But they were both kind and tried to include him whenever possible. Shon didn't always oblige, he preferred to watch at the sidelines most of the time, but he did make a point of trying to socialize sometimes.

Smith Nurangran moved on to Rerves and Shon looked from the larger boy to the smaller and back again before focusing his gaze on Master Daunas. It seemed neither of them was going to ask the adults to clarify what they meant by the sword assignments, so he would have to, "I thought we were going to be trained in all weapons…"

Daunas must have seen where Shon was going because he spoke at the pause provided, "oh you will boy. But I was watching you fight back on the road. You didn't think we had staged that little attack just for fun did you?" Shon didn't say anything. He HAD thought it was just for fun. Some kind of hazing ritual or something. When Shon didn't answer Daunas continued, "you boys have only been lightly trained, so your movements were mostly on instinct, giving me an idea for what fighting style you may lean more towards." he pointed at Shon, who crossed his eyes focusing on the finger, "you, boy, are going to be a problem." Shon refocused on the weapon masters face, confused, "you're the one old man V has been training."

Who? Shon scrunched his face and blinked, "Master Veon-Zih?"

"That's the one!" Daunas Mung continued as though Shon hadn't said anything, "he's got you jabbing out and jumping around with no mind to the armor you'll be wearing or the weapon in your hand," that was because he was taught not to wear armor or use a weapon, but Shon didn't say anything, "you'll have to work twice as hard to adjust some of those habits."

Shon was taken aback, shocked and a little afraid… he didn't want to lose what he had already learned… but Master Daunas continued, "but with a hand-and-a-half sword you'll be able to switch between one and two-handed maneuvers." he smiled softly, and Shon realized his emotions must have been showing on his face because the weapon master seemed to be comforting him. "You mark my words; you'll favor the bastard sword for sure…"

* * *

He was right.

Over a year and a half had gone by. Thom, Shon, and Rerves, weren't the youngest squires anymore, and though they had been training regularly in a wide range of weapons they all showed the most promise, and preference, for the swords Weaponmaster Daunas had said they would on their first day.

Shon didn't have as much trouble adjusting to some of the weapons as they had thought, but he despised shield drills and never felt truly comfortable in any of the armors they had worked in so far. They had started off training every day in their hardened leather armor and had moved up to hide once they had outgrown the leather, and a chain shirt after they had grown out of that, and had just recently moved into scale mail.

The boys had all grown at least six inches, Thom had shot up almost eight, and had gotten considerably stronger all around with the intense exercise and drills the Paladins and fighters put them through. In truth, they weren't 'boys' anymore.

They learned more of the history of the Order of the Sword and had begun to study the intricate layers and levels of the laws of the kingdom and individual provinces they would be responsible for enforcing as members of the Order.

Shon was fast approaching his sixteenth birthday and felt he was on the road to the rest of his life, that he had found a family in his fellow squires he had only ever felt before with Master Veon-Zih. Shon wasn't as much of a pessimist as his companions teased him for, but he thought he should have known something would happen to put it all at risk...


	4. Ice Ice Baby

**Ulhar 20, 1102**

Shon tried to shake the sweat from his face without taking his eyes off of his opponent, with limited success. They were both breathing hard, but neither were letting their guard down. It was the last match in a long string of matches meant to build stamina for long battles against varying combatants and stiles. Shon and his opponent, Brardin, were the last two standing, and everyone else had formed a loose circle around their ring, wiping their own sweat and cheering for one or the other good-naturedly.

Shon blocked them out, his cold eyes studying Baradin's every move from beyond his bastard sword held at the ready in both hands. Brardin was a year older than Shon, but roughly the same size and height. He wielded his one-handed long sword with ease, though his shield was shaking visibly from the fatigue. Shon waited…

Brardin attacked, swinging towards Shon's left in a wide arch parallel with the ground. Shon parried easily, shifting his sword only slightly to deflect the strike. "Brardin!" Master Daunas shouted from the sidelines, "Pay attention! Shon's not the first lefty you've fought today!" The older squire nodded, breathing in long slow breaths. It had been a long day of match after match with no time to breath between them. That was the point of it, to build stamina, but Shon for one had reached his limit.

He came in hard and fast. One last burst of strength for the day. Brardin brought up his shield to intercept, and Shon used that momentary blindness to turn in and around his opponent. It was a move he had done a thousand times with varying modifications depending on weapon and combatant. So no one was more surprised than he was when his leading foot slipped out from beneath him, and his trailing knee hit the ground hard.

"Shon! The hell you doin'?" Master Daunas yelled, but Shon was too busy trying to recover to hear him. Letting go of his sword, Shon brought his right elbow up under Brardin's raised arm to jab him hard in the ribs.

Brardin folded over the strike with an audible "oof" and Shon came to his feet again in a pivot, bringing his sword down to stop just before the back of Brardin's neck.

"Match…" he breathed, his chest heaving as he struggled to take in as much air as he could.

Brardin sunk to one knee trying to catch his own breath and grasping his bruised ribs, "Match." he confirmed while the onlookers clapped and hollered their approval. But one onlooker wasn't smiling.

Weapon master Daunas strode into the ring, brow furrowed, as Shon reached down to help Braradin to his feet. "What was with that funky slide? You trying out new dance moves again boy?"

"Slipped," Shon answered, turning to the master who was looking him over before looking at the rough packed earth of the ring and back.

"On what?" it was still early winter, and they hadn't had any rain in over a month. The ring had been dry when they had started the match, but now it seemed there was a small bit of dampness on the ground where he had slipped. But not enough to lose his footing on…

"I don't know," Shon said between breaths. He was honestly too tired to think much about it.

"Humph," The weapon master waved the two squires away, "go get yourselves cleaned up." and then almost as an afterthought, "You did good today." Brardin and Shon nodded their thanks silently turning to follow the rest of the trainees to the showers.

Brardin smiled sideways at Shon as they left Daunas's earshot, "Did you have to elbow me so hard?"

Shon glanced over with a shrug, "Sorry." but Braradin just laughed.

Back at the ring, Daunas Mung dug the toe of his boot into the small patch of wet ground, his brow furrowed in thought…

* * *

Later that evening Shon found himself perched atop a closed crate of scrap metal in the blacksmith's workshop. Nurangran Flintchest was hammering away at the glowing metal before him that would soon be a new sword, while Shon sketched some of the specific scenes he could remember from the earlier sparing into the journal spread out on his lap. Much like Shon, the smith was a man of few words, so the young squire often came to the workshop to enjoy the companionable silence.

The evening was relatively warm for the season, and with the bellows going at full heat the smithy was downright smoldering. Shon had rolled up his sleeves and loosed the neck of his tunic to accommodate but was still sweating at the temples even though he sat next to the only open window.

The loud hiss of steam filled the room as Nurangran dipped his sword in the water trough before examining it and placing it back on the hot coals. Shon watched the older man pump the bellows a few times to bring it back to temperature before going back to his drawings. Soon the sharp "tink, tink" of the smith's hammer on metal resumed, and Shon put the finishing touches on his drawing of Brardin just as he had blocked Shon's strike.

"Water." Shon looked up. Nurangran nodded at him and at the trough of water, never changing the steady rhythm of his hammering. Shon looked at the water too and seeing it was low, slid off the crate and grabbed the bucket to top it off. That was the deal. Shon could sit in the smithy all he wanted so long as he helped out when asked. That meant pumping the bellows if Nurangran needed both hands for his project, feeding fresh wood into the furnace and gathering water for the dousing trough when it was low.

Shon was still thinking about the last fight as he filled the bucket from the well and carried it back to the smith. He had never lost his footing quite that badly before, he was sure he hadn't overextended his step. Lifting the bucket with a small grunt Shon tilted it into the trough. He had been tired… there was a chance he had overstepped and didn't realize…

"Boy?" Shon looked up from his contemplation and saw the old smith staring at him with a wrinkled brow. He had stopped hammering, and meeting Shon's eye, gestured with his bearded chin at the bucket. Shon followed the gesture and dropped the still full bucket.

It fell with a heavy "Thunk" wobbling before settling. The water was frozen solid.

* * *

"Well, it's both surprising and not..." Weaponmaster Daunas leaned against the general's desk; his arms crossed over his chest.

The Paladin general himself sat behind the desk, his fingers steepled together in front of his face, "How so?"

"Always been cold," smith Nurangran answered, "unusually so." he stood by the door, his large arms also crossed.

Shon sat silently in the chair facing the general's desk, his hands clenched into fists on his lap, while the adults spoke above him.

"He needs to go to the mages guild…" Sir Davis Selibra said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. Shon's nails dug furrows into his palms, but he didn't look up. "The law is clear. Sorcerers must register with the guild. They can decide if he should study or seal the magic." Shon's eyes burned with unshed tears; everything was going wrong… how could this happen…

Daunus scoffed, "they don't hardly give out physical seals anymore. Even if we vouch for him you know they would rather mark him up and call it a day, and that will interfere with the Divine magic once he takes his oath."

"If he takes the oath," Paladin Davis countered, "if they don't give him the tattoo, they will still want to observe him for a sealing item. That takes time away from training."

"He shows too much promise to just hand over to those bookworms…" Daunas argued.

"Ivelm could do it." Shon's head shot up, and they all looked to Nurangran who shrugged, "Old mage owes me a favor."

Shon tilted his head in confusion, who… but they were still talking around him.

"That old hermit?" Daunas Mung stroked his short stubble of a beard while Sir Davies tapped his desk with one thoughtful finger, "if he is ranked high enough he may have clearance to approve a sealing item..."

"Didn't he retire? That's the whole reason he's way out here." the Paladin asked.

The old smith shrugged again, "Specializes in magic items. Used to make shackles for bringin' in wayward mages…"

"That's awfully convenient." Daunas mused

"A blessing I would say." The general got to his feet his eyes finally on Shon. "It's not unusual for a sorcerer to awaken at this age, as rare as they may be." He walked around his desk to fully face Shon who dared not blink, "If it is your desire to give up this chance at magic to finish your training with us then I will ask smith Flintchest to take you to this mage," He knelt down, so he was eye to icy blue eye with the squire, "but I would ask you to consider carefully. Once you take your oath as a Paladin, you won't be able to go back and study magic."

But Shon didn't need to think about it. He didn't want magic. He had been training in combat since he was ten, with Master Veon-Zih. If he were going to do anything outside the Order of the Sword, it would be to continue his lessons as a monk.

Shon straightened his back in the chair and met the general's gaze without blinking, "I want to finish my training."

Sir Davies Selibra nodded, Master Daunas Mung clapped him on the shoulder, and smith Nurangran uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the wall, "Might as well start getting ready now then." he said, and Shon stood.

* * *

She closed the old book with a sigh and stretched out, pointing her toes and wiggling her fingers high over her head. Ocean blue eyes darted up to the window high on the stone wall and the weak winter light shining through it. Maybe they would take her outside today. But then again maybe not.

Yawing she scratched at a dry spot on the scales of her upper arm. Her skin always dried out in the winter, but it was when her few scales started itching that it really bothered her. She couldn't scratch under them and so was forced to just rub the area, hoping to move the flesh around over top the muscle enough to stop the itching. It never worked. But it was better than doing nothing.

CRASH! She jumped with a surprised hiss at the ceiling. Something heavy had hit the floor a few stories above her. She could hear her caretakers running back and forth like scurrying mice on the floor above. They were shouting, but she couldn't make out the words. Getting to her feet she watched the ceiling, brow furrowed and hair standing up on the back of her neck. Something was wrong. Very wrong…

* * *

Shon stood straight after hobbling smith Nurangran's horse. The smith himself was just finishing strapping the feed bag to its face and patted the animal on the neck with one massive hand. Shon's own borrowed horse was already munching away contentedly in her bag, hobbled and waiting for their eventual return. Shon patted her neck in a way similar to the smith, but with considerably less force or size.

They had stopped at the base of a tall hill, and though no snow had yet to reach the fortress to the south, this far north saw a healthy ground covering of fluffy snow that crunched under their boots and occasionally flopped noisily to either side of them as it fell from the branches of the tall fir trees.

As the smith shifted in his heavy coat, Shon regretted for the first time not feeling cold in the icy winter air. Something he had always taken as a personal quirk that meant he didn't need to weigh himself down with layers in the winter turned out to be much more and may mean the end of his career as a Paladin, or even a fighter. With a word from the Mages Guild, he would be swept away from Hamerfoss to train instead in the magic towers of the cities. They just needed to decide if, as a sorcerer, it was safer for the kingdom to have his magic indoctrinated or imprisoned.

The best-case scenario would see his magic sealed, either with some powerful item or a tattoo. It was his hope that this hermit mage could provide him with an item so he could forgo the tattoo that could potentially hinder any divine power granted by Heironeous to his Paladins, or even interfere with the flow of ki in his body that master Veon-Zih had talked to him about. It was well known that the magical tattoos, given to those magic users who broke the law or endangered the kingdom's citizens, had an adverse effect on the host's health. Nothing too extreme, but they never seemed to live as long or healthily as their un-inked counterparts.

The smith and the squire walked up the steep hill in silence until a small ramshackle little hut could be seen from between the trees. Only then did Nurangran reach out a huge hand to stop Shon. Shon was a good eight inches or so taller than the squat smith, and he looked down at him waiting for an explanation he was sure would come.

"Don't touch anything. And don't be surprised if he says no right off," Nurangran explained. Shon nodded trying to swallow down his fear so it couldn't be seen in his eyes. Nurangran dropped his hand and began moving forward again, "be honest, but not insulting."

None of the old man's instructions seemed at all unusual or unexpected. They sounded like basic etiquette to him, but Shon was grateful for them nonetheless. It gave him something to focus on as they drew closer and closer to the little shack.

As they got closer, Shon could make out the door and the little sign on it. He squinted to read it and had just made out "No Soliciting" before the door swung open, and a skinny old man in nothing but a loincloth stepped out shaking a thick stick that glinted red in the low winter light at them.

"I already paid my dues for this decade! So you can take your request and shove it…" Shon had stopped walking as the door swung open, and his hand instinctively reached up to the sword strapped to his back when the old man came out swinging. Nurangran just crossed his arms over his barrel chest and waited for the man to stop yelling.

The old, mostly naked, man stopped yelling mid-rant and lifted one frail shriveled arm to shade his eyes as he squinted at them, "Eh? Flintchest, what are you doing way out here with a blasted mage in tow?"

The old smith started to walk again, moving closer to loincloth man. He didn't much care for talking let alone shouting. Shon looked from one old man to the other and slowly lowered his arm, taking up a position just behind and to the left of Nurangran as they approached the crazy man with the glittering red club.

"No mage." Nurangran said as he came right up to the strange old man, "Squire." he glanced over his shoulder at Shon and said, "Sorcerer."

The old man spat on the ground and squinted at Shon, running his eyes from the top of his head to the tip of his boots and back, slowly exaggerating the movement before he stopped at the squires cold blue eyes. He spat again. "Well, come in then."

Shon looked sideways at Nurangran, but the smith had already begun following the skinny old man into the shack. Not wanting to be left outside Shon hurried to catch up.

Inside, Shon's eyes were assaulted with a rainbow of glittering colors as the jewels and glass bottles that covered every surface seemed to glitter with their own internal light. The room they had walked into was considerably larger than the outside would suggest, with a plush carpet and blazing fire in the opposite wall. There was too much to take in, so he decided to focus on their host. The old man was slipping into a thick robe of a deep purple velvet; he had hung the club on the wall beside the door, which looked just as decrepit on this side as it had on the outside.

"Do you make a habit of greeting visitors half naked and swinging an old fireball wand?" Nurangran asked as he slipped out of his jacket.

"Keeps the conversations short." the old man replied tying his belt and turning to his guests, hands on hips and glare firmly planted on his wrinkled face. "Don't bother getting comfortable Flintchest; you'll be leaving soon enough."

The smith ignored him, hanging his coat on the large hook that had held the man's robe. "I got a favor to ask," he said, but the old man was already shaking his head

"More like a favor to cash in. That's the only reason you're in here and not smoking in a hole outside." Nurangran ignored the threat and motioned from Shon to the old man and back.

"Shon this is arch mage Ivelm. Elm, this is Shon, one of the squires down at Hamerfoss." the mage was looking Shon up and down again, and Shon placed his left fist into his right palm and bowed low at the waist in greeting.

"Not much longer I'd say." Ivelm said to Nurangran as he finished his examination, "It's to the guild with this one. Too much magic." he turned his head and spat in a brass can by the door. It rang out with a loud 'ting!' Ivelm sniffed looking down at Nurangran again, "What do you want Flintchest."

"I need a seal. So the boy doesn't freeze Hamerfoss more than it already is." the smith recrossed his arms, watching the mage with beady eyes behind his beard.

"Eh?!" Ivelm moved closer to Shon, who had to try hard not to crinkle his nose as the old man brought his face close enough that the squire could smell his breath. Garlic, the mage ate a lot of garlic…

"So… you don't want to be a mage do you?" he asked Shon, glaring down his nose at him. Shon shook his head and would have answered with a 'no sir.' except the mage continued, "Rather swing around some hunk of metal? Not even sharp enough to cut wood, like a bruit?"

Shon blinked, and smith Nurangran cleared his throat, "Watch what you say about my swords old man."

The mage ignored him, "You hold the powers of the universe at your fingertips. Blood blessed with the strength of the elements, and you wanna throw it all away," he threw his arms into the air, still uncomfortably close, "and for what? Some illusion of an honorable death by the sword?"

Shon didn't know what to say, he looked past the mages face, only an inch or two from his own, to the smith, but Nurangran gave no sign he was going to help with this. Shon stepped back from the mage to address him more comfortably.

"I chose to dedicate my life to perfecting my art, and my art is martial combat," he said. Ivelm wrinkled his nose, but Shon continued, "magic would be better served in the hands of someone who wants it badly enough to work for it like I have worked for my martial skills."

The old mage leaned away from Shon, his eyebrows arched into his frizzled gray hair. Shon looked to Nurangran, looking for some sign that he had said the right thing, and saw the old smith smile and wink from behind the mage.

"Soooo…" Ivelm drew the word out, "You think only those who dedicate themselves to strict study and practice should wield the power of the universe?" he had leaned forward again, turning his head and fixing one eye on Shon intently, as if trying to catch him in a lie.

Shon blinked, confused, "Isn't that what it takes to effectively wield magic? Focused study?"

Ivelm turned his face the other way to focus on Shon with the other eye, scanning him up and down again. The old man had looked him up and down so much he wouldn't be surprised if the next question were about his hair or his boots.

But he didn't ask another question. Instead, he stood straight and spat into the brass can again with another ringing 'ting!' "I like this one," he said, turning his back to Shon and facing Nurangran, "but it's too much." he shook his head, lifting his hands in helpless surrender, "Too much power."

A hole had opened in Shon's gut, and it felt like his heart was racing his stomach to fall into it. But Nurangran just rolled his eyes at the mage. "You've made shackles to hold archmages." he squinted at Ivelm, who had stopped shaking his head, "Or are you trying to say you've gotten rusty out here…"

Ivelm snapped his fingers under the smith's nose to stop him talking, "The mind does not rust Flintchest!" he huffed, his fists on his hips and one bare foot tapping under his robe, "Not like your swords and shriveling muscles." Nurangran just stared stubbornly at the mage, his thick, muscled arms still crossed over his wide chest.

The mage continued to tap his foot, his nose in the air. But as the silence stretched he looked down at the smith, who continued to say nothing, before throwing his arms up and shaking his finger under Nurangran's nose again, "I'll show you. I'll make a gem especially for this boy, and you'll see the mind only continues to grow sharper!"

He spun on his heal back to Shon who could just make out the smiths smile from behind the mage before the old man snapped his fingers under his own nose causing him to jump. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come here so I can take some measurements!" blinking Shon scrambled after the mage as the old man swung around again and marched across the room to a large workbench with plants and gems scattered across it.

* * *

Was that a scream? It couldn't be. She moved to the window set high on the wall and stood on her tiptoes twisting her neck to try and see out and up. Just snow, fir trees, and sky. She moved instead to the door, kneeling down to squint out the keyhole. The sound echoed again, louder. But was it because she was closer to the door or because whatever was causing the sound was moving closer?

Her heart was pounding with enough force that she could feel it without placing her hand on her chest. It felt like it was moving up and into her throat as fear started to morph into terror. What if it was her treasures? She could hear shouting now. But was it truth, or panic, that told her it was coming from her treasures' rooms? She tried to open the door. Locked. That was normal, but it had never bothered her this much before. She called to her caretakers, "Fen, Brom?" it was their turn on duty, and they always answered when she had called before.

Nothing.

"Fen! Brom!?" she was shouting now, shaking the door with all her strength.

"High Lord, please!" she could make out words but the panic she felt prevented them from making sense.

A frighted roar, cut off by another scream.

The door handle grew hot under her hand. Her treasures. Something was hurting her treasures. The metal was glowing, first orange, then yellow, then a piercing white as it started to lose shape and sink down the sides of the door. The wood around the handle began to turn black and smoke before catching fire an instant later. She pulled on the melting handle, her skin unscarred by the heat.

Molten iron splashed into the room, catching the small rug and bed sheets ablaze. She ignored it. She had to save her treasures.

Racing down the stone hall, she followed the sound of desperate pleading. It took her to the corridor where they kept her treasures… "Lord Mourndancer! All the work, all the research, what are…" rounding the corner, she slipped.

She hit the ground hard and tried to scramble to her feet only to stop completely. She hadn't just slipped; she had slipped on something. Raising her hands to her face, she couldn't fully absorb what was making her fingers slick and sticky all at the same time. The realization sank in as the overwhelming stench of iron made her gag.

The stone floor, once gray, was vibrant scarlet, the sticky fluid blending with her scales as it formed droplets and ran down her hands. Her mind felt as though it were racing while staying completely still. Her heart was beating in her ears, and she couldn't make out the words of the people around her.

One taloned paw, like a large cat but covered in fine green scales lay only a few feet away. That was the source of the crimson, of the roar she had heard. A set of long robes brushed over the paw, blocking it from view. She followed them up to their owner, Archmage Lord Fromam Mourndancer...

"Why?" it came out a breath of a whisper, but if the archmage heard her, he showed no signs. His breath was heavy, his eyes wide, the dagger in his left hand dripped, the staff in his right smoked… and her world went white.

* * *

Shon couldn't remember ever feeling so drained in his life. He had been tired before, sure, exhausted even, but it had never felt quite like this. The eccentric mage Ivelm had ordered him to "empty his energy" into stone after stone, measuring the weight and the color and the temperature with each one, making notes and talking to himself. The first time Shon was shocked to see the smooth rock change from a translucent white to an onyx darker even then his black hair. But by the time they had gone through the twentieth stone Shon had stopped counting.

Ivelm, however, seemed to get more and more excited with each one, giving Shon reason to suspect the mage may be taking the energy Shon gave for himself. After what felt like hours he finally stoppered the potion he had mixed with the most recent jewel, it was glowing a soft pale blue, and stepped back from the workbench, bony hands on bony hips.

"It can be done." he swiveled to face Nurangran, "He's strong, but it's all focused in one elemental direction." he rubbed his chin and looked at the ceiling, completely ignoring Shon's questioning look. "It has a bit of divine flavor as well. But I suppose that shouldn't be surprising for a training Paladin." he stopped musing and glared down his nose at Nurangran, who had made himself comfortable in a large wingback chair by the fire, "But it will have to be a lot bigger than a piece of jewelry would allow."

The smith just arched an eyebrow and sipped at his mug. When had he gotten a mug? Shon looked from one older man to the other. It was obvious the mage wanted the smith to ask him for details, but the ever stoic Nurangran said nothing.

Shon was tired. His limbs felt heavy and the weight of the light armor he wore felt more like full-plate. He had just thought he would open his mouth to ask what the wizard meant to hurry them along when Ivelm threw his hands into the air and said, "You'll need to find somewhere to put it, I would recommend that." he pointed at the hilt of Shon's sword sticking up over his shoulder, "If the boy is insisting on swinging a metal stick around instead of harnessing the ultimate powers of the universe then that same stick might as well sap the power literally as well as figuratively." he was speaking as though Shon wasn't right next to him. Shon arched one black eyebrow in his direction, "I can get it down to about an inch and a half orb. At the smallest. If you want something different, you need to let me know now."

Nurangran set his mug down and stood with a grunt and a groan. He moved towards Shon, who just wanted to go home and sleep for a week, and surprised him by reaching up to grab the hilt of his bastard sword and pulling it down to eye level. Eyes wide Shon swung his arms like windmills and stepped wide to prevent himself from falling over as Nurangran jerked him down and to the left.

"Quit wigglin'" the smith grumbled studying the sword's pommel with a professional eye. "One and a half will do, preferably in a tear shape…"

The mage snorted and continued to ignore the struggling half crouched Shon, "Shall I wrap it in silk for you as well?" his voice dripped sarcasm.

"Na." Nurangran finally let go of the sword, and Shon stood straight, lifting his leg to shake out the knee. "I'll come get it when it's ready." the mage snorted again but nodded.

That done, Nurangran grabbed his heavy coat and shrugged it on, while Shon waited by the door. "It will be at least a fortnight. I'll send a message." the mage called from his position by the work desk. He wasn't about to walk them out.

The smith grunted his confirmation and opened the door to the little hut letting the wind and snow blow in before stepping out. Shon followed numbly, his eyes unfocused as he walked. And walked right into the squat older man.

Nurangran hardly moved as Shon bounced off of him. He was squinting into the distance, one large hand shading his eyes. The hill they were on was tall, and the immediate area around the mages hut was mostly clear, except for a few young fir trees, giving them a relatively unimpeded view of the treetops and surrounding forest. Shon stared at Nurangran for a moment before following the direction of his gaze past the tree line.

Smoke. A LOT of smoke. The black clouds billowed violently into the sky, occasionally lit from below by sparks shot high into the air.

"Elm!" Nurangran shouted. Shon had never heard the man call so loudly. The mage must have also been shocked because the door to his hut swung open again and he stuck his head out to look to either side, eyes wide.

"Flintchest, what?" but he soon saw what, and stepped slowly from his home into the cold winter air, "But, that's the old chemist's tower… what?" he stood in shocked confusion for a moment before turning back into the hut. Shon looked from the hut to Nurangran and back but before he could say anything the mage was back, struggling with two long rods, one blue with what looked like waves all around, the other black and studded with diamonds.

"Don't just stand there!" he snapped at the two as he finally managed to slip the blue rod into a thong at his side. He then pointed the diamond rod at the space between two trees. Shon heard him say something unintelligible and one of the diamonds shot out of the tip of the rod to hover between the trees for a moment before expanding into a portal.

Beyond the magical gate, Shon could hear the fire roar. It sounded like he imagined the burning hells might sound, but as he followed the two older men through, he realized his imagination was tame by comparison.

The smell of burning flesh and hair choked him as they stepped clear of the portals magic. The heat smashing into them like a wall as all three brought their arms up to shield their faces. Around them were the charred remains of what looked like humans, their faces buried in the mud as if they had been trying to run from the blaze. Shon had to swallow the bile that had risen in his throat and chose instead to focus on the burning tower.

It was completely engulfed in bright flames of all colors. Squinting through the light, he could see the stone walls drooping as the rock melted like wax. The arch of the doorway sagged in the middle, and Shon's eyes went wide, "Someone's in there!"

He had to shout over the roar of the flames, not that it mattered, Ivelm was already raising the blue wand, jerking his arms in strange ways and mouthing words impossible to hear. Water shot out the tip with the force of a ballista and hissed against the glowing stones.

It wasn't possible, it must be a trick of the flickering flames, but the figure turned its face to them. Long hair wiped about it as it took steps in their direction.

"Don't just stand there boy!" Ivelm shouted. "They must have a fire resist spell; those things don't last forever!"

Nurangran grabbed his upper arm pulling him a step closer to the fire and down so he could speak into his ear, "Freeze a path."

Shon swallowed, he was so tired, so drained, he didn't know what to do or how to do it. But the figure in the fire reached out to them only to pull away from a drop of molten rock. He dropped to his knees, placing his hands on the ground and pleaded silently to Heironeous. He pictured a path of snow between himself and the tower base, focused on it until the mental image overlay the real world.

Ice snaked its way from the tips of Shon's fingers towards the burning tower. His breathing became heavy and ragged. He could feel the fire melting the ice as if it were a part of him, but it continued to form into solid sheets moving closer and closer. The water from Ivelms wand helped carve a path and Shon grunted physically as he struggled to push mentally.

Wherever the ice formed solid, it stayed. The fire drawing back from it, and the struggle became slightly easier until finally, it reached the feet of the figure in the doorway. Shon was seeing double. He struggled to focus on the figure as it stepped onto the ice path that seemed to act as a shield from the flames, and moved towards them, wavering on bare, unsteady feet.

It was a woman. Or a young girl. And she was naked; her clothes burned away by the fire. Her long golden hair was being blown forward by the wind created by the burning tower. As she moved closer, Shon could make out strange red stripes around her body, standing in stark relief against her pale skin.

Ivelm stepped in front of him then, throwing Nurangrans coat around her shoulders. Nurangran himself knelt beside Shon, resting one massive hand on his back. "That's good son, you can stop…" his voice trailed off, and Shon felt an empty disappointment open in his chest. No one else could have survived that. Not if they hadn't already made it to the entrance like this girl had. As if to punctuate the thought, there was a crash, and Shon stood on shaking legs to see the entrance wall of the tower collapse in on itself.


	5. Sixteen

**Ulhar 23, 1102**

He remembered Nurangran Flintchest's back as he moved forward to pick up the rescued girl. He thought he remembered the mage Ivelm opening another portal. He definitely remembered leaning against one of the surrounding pines and resting his eyes for just a moment…

"Completely unscathed?" he could hear someone talking… General Davies...

Shon's eyes were closed, and he didn't want to open them. His head felt like someone was pounding nails into it, and even the little bit of light filtering through the skin of his eyelids was making it worse.

"A few minor cuts and bruises, but other than that she seems fine." That was the Hamerfoss cleric's voice… "I was afraid she may have some kind of infection at first…"

"What would make you think that?" Weaponmaster Daunas Mung…

"Well her skin was just so hot. But definitely not burned, not even pink."

"Can a fire resist spell do that?" the general…

"Not with fire that hot! It was melting the stone." Mage Ivelm. Shon flinched as the man didn't even try to keep his voice down. "I doubt she's human."

"She looks human enough to me." Weaponmaster Daunas.

"Some of the worst demons and devils appear human." the general.

"I don't sense any evil from her." the cleric again.

He must be in the medical word. Why else would they be talking to each other with him just laying here, apparently unconscious? The cleric assigned to Hamerfoss almost never left the word except to go to the chapel or meals. As if reading his mind the general spoke again.

"And Shon?" he asked,

"Physically fine." the cleric said, but considering the pain in his head, Shon was inclined to argue the point. If he could bring himself to even open his eyes. "He's been spiritually drained but should recover fine in a day or two."

Ivelm scoffed loudly, "he did some impressive work. Are you sure you don't want to force him into the guild?"

But luckily master Daunas came to his defense, "Hardly. Even if he didn't want to stay, I wouldn't give him up without a fight. Monk V would never forgive me." the mage scoffed again.

"Well gentlemen, let's continue this conversation in my office shall we?" the general.

Shon could hear at least three sets of booted feet moving away from him, and another pare moving closer. Breathing deeply he braved the light and opened his eyes as slowly as he could.

The light caused waves of sheering pain starting in his eyes and washing back over his head and down his neck, but rather than getting worse, it seemed to lessen the longer he kept them open. Turning his head slightly to the right Shon could see the resident cleric drawing a curtain over the window, blocking some of the bright morning light. Slowly he turned his head to the left and saw another bed a few yards away.

It was the girl. She had a blanket pulled up to her neck, but he could see her chest rise and fall in a deep, sleeping rhythm. She definitely looked human, her gold hair pooled around the pale skin of her face, but Shon couldn't help but remember that same hair wiping about her as she stood naked and unbothered in the raging fire.

Sighing Shon closed his eyes again and tried to fall back asleep. The commanding officers would decide what to do. All he could do now was rest.

* * *

**Ulhar 25, 1102**

She was warm, and the bed was soft, but the smell was different, and the realization caused her eyes to fly open, momentarily confused. Then the memories started coming back in jagged bits and pieces. The sound of running feet coming from the ceiling, the melting door handle… it made no sense, but she knew. Knew everything had changed…

She could feel the moisture build in her eyes, blurring her vision. Angrily she wiped the tears away and struck the mattress in frustration before rolling to her side and sitting up. The room was almost painfully white. White sheets, white wall hangings, white carpet under the beds. How in all the hells did they manage to keep the place clean? On the wall across from her bed was a shelf holding a little altar, the banner behind it depicting a fist holding a lightning bolt. Heironeous. She had read about him in one of the many books her caretakers had given her. Those were probably gone too...

"Oh, you're awake." she jumped, the ropes of the bed creaking as her weight came back down on them, she hadn't noticed the person now walking towards her from the corner to her left. Turning that way she saw a large desk with papers stacked neatly on it, another small altar to Heironeous in the corner. "You seem well enough."

The man had a kindly smile, and she didn't pull away when he reached down to feel her head and lifted her hand to take her pules. "Still warm though..." his brow furrowed but he let her arm go without further comment.

"The general will want to speak with you." he smoothed his white robes, also with the symbol of Heironeous on in, and began moving towards the door, "if you will wait just one moment." he left, and she had a fleeting thought to follow. He hadn't locked the door, she could just go. Then she could go outside whenever she wanted, maybe even travel to different provinces. She stood, taking stalk of her bare feet and the long white shift. Of course, it was white.

But she didn't go for the door. Instead, she went to the window and looking out was shocked to see treetops and blue sky. She was so accustomed to sleeping in the lower levels of her tower that being in an upper room had momentarily surprised her. Placing her hands on the glass, she stood on her toes to try and see further down the building. There was a large courtyard, surrounded by tall, thick walls. People in silver armor walked along the battlements, and she had to wonder if she even could leave if she were to try.

She watched the people in the courtyard. Some were firing bows at distant targets, others were facing off against each other in dirt rings. Some were just moving from one area to another, disappearing into doors she couldn't see.

The door behind her opened, and she pulled away from the window. She turned to see an older man, his brown hair peppered with silver, neatly cut and clean shaven. He wore a long sword on his belt and his tabard, lined in gold, bore the symbol of Heironeous. "Good morning." his voice was authoritative but not unkind. And he motioned towards the bed with one leather gloved hand.

Taking a seat on the bed, she didn't wait for him to speak further, "Where am I?"

The cleric from before dragged the chair from his desk over for the man to sit, which he did before answering her question. "You are in the Fortress of Hamerfoss. Northern training facility for the Order of the Sword." that would explain all the Heironous symbols…

He continued, cutting her off before she could ask anything more, "What is your name."

Her mouth snapped shut on the question she was going to ask and blinking a few times said, "I don't know yet."

His speckled eyebrows lifted, and when she didn't clarify her answer he said, "what do you mean by that?"

She shrugged, "They always said I would know my own name, and to tell them when I did." She shook her head, "but I really have no idea what that's supposed to mean." she had asked them many times when she was younger, years and years ago. But finally stopped when they just kept giving her the same answer again and again.

"Who are 'they'?" he asked next, causing her to tilt her head in confusion.

"my caretakers." He said nothing, "The wizards of the tower." but thinking of the tower caused a chasm to open in her chest and she looked down at the hands in her lap, forcing back the emotions, "Please don't make me go back there…" her voice was a whisper and the man leaned forward to bring his face closer to her.

"There is no 'there' to go back to," she looked up, confused, "The tower burned to the ground, much of the stone melted. We found no other survivors." his voice was measured, his eyes studying her face for a reaction. "No natural fire could do that…"

She lowered her eyes again, staring at the hands clenched into fists in her lap. It didn't matter anyway. They had taken her treasures from her. That memory burned the tears away, and she said nothing. Finally, the man asked, "Do you remember what happened?"

She looked up, and something in her eyes caused the man to sit back in his chair, "He took my treasures, killed them," her voice trailed off as she tried to recall the details, but there was nothing but white-hot anger… "there were two older men and a younger. He had blue eyes."

"What do you mean by 'treasures'?" he leaned forward again and she tilted her head at him.

"The other subjects, mixed breeds, and samples…" he looked puzzled, and her voice trailed off.

"What exactly were they doing out there?" the question was directed at her, and she blinked again tilting her head to the other side.

"Bringing back the dragons," she answered.

* * *

**Ulhar 26, 1102**

Shon had left the medical ward two days previous and Weaponmaster Daunas wasted no time getting him back to work. Breaking through the layer of ice that had formed over the water in the rain barrel Shon splashed cold water onto his face and down the back of his neck while the others just shook their heads in confusion. All the squires were used to this behavior, so they said nothing as they filed past into the barracks, intending to get a hot shower in before dinner. Shon hated the crowds that always formed in the halls and showers after a particularly hard drill and instead avoided them both by staying outside and showering after dinner.

There were only around 15 squires at any one time being trained in Hammerfoss, but when all of them wanted to shower at once, it was fourteen too many. Instead, he plopped onto the bench beside the barrel with a heavy 'thunk' and proceeded to unbuckle his armor. By the time he was ready to carry it to his room, the halls would be mostly clear. Then he just needed to wait for dinner to start and he would be first in line.

Leaning back he ran his fingers through his black hair with a sigh. It needed to be cut. It was about two finger widths long already and well out of regulation. The sun was already setting, painting the winter sky in a rainbow of reds and purples and blues. It was while he was leaning on the wall watching the colors in the sky that he caught sight of something out of the ordinary on the roof. Squinting up he could make out a figure in white, but it couldn't be any of the Paladins, it wasn't a location they patrolled. He leaned forward and saw the gold hair flowing down the back as the figure turned to put their hands down before taking a seat.

The girl…

But what was she doing alone and on the roof? A moment of dread seeped into Shon's mind. He wasn't known for being particularly kind or sympathetic to the loss experienced by the other squires in the fortress. The truth was he didn't really have anything to compare the loss of a family member too and wasn't practiced in comforting others. It didn't mean he didn't care… and this girl had just lost everything. What if she jumped… but she was sitting, not standing on the edge or anything...

Shon made the decision and was moving even while he questioned the wisdom of the idea. He didn't run. Instead, Shon stopped by his room, dropping off his armor and slipping on a clean tunic. He was almost out the door when the leather journal he was currently working on caught his eye on the desk by his bed. If she didn't want his company, Shon wouldn't force it on her, and it would be nice to have while he waited for dinner. Scooping up the journal he took a deep breath and headed for the fortress roof.

He was trying to decide on what exactly to say as he stepped onto the window ledge that led out to the roof. Looking up from his feet he saw dark blue eyes staring at him. She must have heard him coming. "Um…" he swallowed.

"Hello." she tilted her head to one side like a cat, her gold hair falling in that direction. "Did I take your spot? I'm sorry."

Shon blinked in confusion, waiting just a moment too long before answering, "uh. No, it's ok… I, um, just saw you up here and wanted to make sure… " what? That she wasn't going to jump to her doom? Stupid stupid stupid.

But the girl smiled, and it made her eyes sparkle.

She shifted over, making room for him. "You can sit down if you want. I don't get to go outside often, so I was just enjoying the air." she turned to look out at the courtyard, bringing her face into profile as he walked carefully out onto the roof and took a seat beside her.

Situated on her right side, he couldn't help but stare when he looked back up at her. She had three pointed stripes across her right cheek, they merged into a single band on her neck and disappeared behind the collar of the white shift she was wearing. Realizing he was staring Shon pulled his eyes away and saw that there was a similar set of stripes on her left hand, which she had crossed over her bent knees. It snaked around her arm vanishing up her sleeve, and as he continued to look away he noticed a third set on her right foot that trailed up her leg, he wondered if they were all connected in some way under the long shift…

Shon shook himself mentally. She looked about fifteen or sixteen, his age, but there was something about her that seemed… older. She turned her head to look at him, resting her left cheek on her bent knees so he couldn't confirm if she had matching stripes on that side. "You were there. At the tower," she said.

She didn't sound sad or upset, and Shon nodded in answer. "Thank you," she said looking back out into the distance, her chin on her knees.

They sat in silence for a while. Normally Shon preferred this kind of companionable silence, but this time he felt like he had invaded her solitude and should say something. More than anything he wanted to know more about her. "What's your name?" he asked. At least he didn't ask about the weather…

To his surprise she shrugged, "I don't know yet." it sounded like an answer she had given frequently. Facing him again she asked, "what's yours?"

"Shon," he answered right away but continued to stare at her, "how do you not know your name?"

She shrugged again and sighed. "They said I would know it when I knew it. But I don't know it yet."

Shon didn't bother to ask who 'they' were. He figured it must be the others at the tower, and he remembered the charred bodies with a little shiver. Instead, he asked, "but what do you go by in the meantime?" she just blinked at him, tilting her head again, so he tried to clarify, "What did they call you while you were growing up?"

"Different things. Mostly just 'you' sometimes 'Red'" she ran a finger over her face and down her neck, "after my scales. Or 'Goldy'" she picked up a handful of hair, "after my hair." dropping it she shrugged again, "everyone had something different, and sometimes it would change."

They sounded like nicknames one would give a horse or a pet hound. Shon looked out at the skyline and let the silence stretch again. The girl didn't seem to mind. Finally, he asked, "would you like one?" she wrinkled her eyebrows at him, "a name I mean," he clarified, then quickly added, "in the meantime, until you know your own…?" Shon's voice trailed off. Not sure if he had said something offensive.

But her face lit up like the sun, and she turned her whole body to face him leaning close enough that he could see the tiny red scales that made up her stripes. They were only on the right side. 'I doubt she's human'... Ivelm had said... "That would be wonderful! I would finally have something to tell people when they asked. And then they wouldn't have to ask what I meant." looking down she continued talking almost to herself, "If I'm going to be meeting more people now I don't want to explain everything every time..." she looked back to him suddenly, and he pulled back slightly in surprise. Her blue eyes were darker than his and very intense. Were her pupils' slits? "How did you get your name?"

He was definitely not expecting that question. After a moment he said, "The priests gave it to me when I was a baby." she continued looking at him and he continued, "They got it off of a list." whenever they took charge of a nameless child they would give them the next name on the list, or at least that is what they told him.

"Do you think I can have one of the names on the list?" she asked.

Shon couldn't help but smile, "you don't have to wait to get one of those." she tilted her head again, and Shon couldn't help but think of what a pleasant curve her neck made when she did that… He shook his head. Partially to clear it but also to answer her unspoken question. "We can pick one now…" he looked around, but all there was to see were stones and fir trees, "What's your favorite flower?" he finally asked.

"What?" she took a moment to consider, "Do flowers get names too?" she huffed and crossed her arms puffing out her cheeks. The expression made Shon wonder what could ever had made him think she seemed older, now she seemed like an upset child, "Even flowers get names, and I have to just wait around to come up with my own…" she grumbled to herself and Shon actually laughed. It was a quiet chuckle and luckily none of the other squires or Paladins where around or they may have died of shock.

Instead of commenting on the grumbled monologue Shon brought around his journal, opening it up to a clean page. Turning it lengthwise he began sketching out some of the most common flowers he could think of that could also double as names. The girl had stopped grumbling as he drew, but Shon was so focused on his work he hardly noticed. When he was finished, Shon turned his head to face her and found her only a few inches away, looking wide-eyed at his drawings.

His breath caught in his chest. She was so close… he could see where the red scales of her stripes merged smoothly with the skin of her face. She smelled like cinnamon… Swallowing he asked, "Which one do you like best?"

She wasn't looking at him. Instead, her eyes were darting from one flower to another, studying each. It was making him very self-conscious. "They're all so pretty…" he wasn't sure if she meant the flowers or his depiction of them but either way she was still so close he felt himself start to blush. Finally, she pointed to one six petaled flower on the top row.

He swallowed again. How had his mouth gotten so dry? "That's a lily. How about that for a name?"

She beamed at him, seemingly unphased by the lack of space between them. "I love it. Lily… " she tried the name, chewing it over, "Lily… Thank you sooooo much." she threw her arms around his neck and it felt like his heart might explode out his chest.

The skin of her arms was warm against the back of his neck and he could feel something… soft and… squishy press up against his upper arm. He braced himself for her to pull away, shocked at the cold of his skin. But she didn't. She gave him one more squeeze before letting her arms fall and looking at the drawing again. "What are the others called?"

"Um…" he stuttered and stared at the picture for a while before his brain straightened itself out again, "this one is a rose, a daisy, a violet, a petunia and a jasmine." he pointed to each in turn and quickly added, "I've only ever seen pictures of the last one so I don't know how good it is…"

"They're all beautiful!" she looked whimsically at the flowers and Shon reached down, slowly working the page out of the book, making sure not to rip the drawings.

She gasped until he held the page out to her. "Here. You can keep it." Lily looked from him to the page and back again before reaching up and taking it gently with her fingertips.

She looked it over again, as if she wanted to carve the image into her memory, then held it to her chest. "I will treasure it…"

Her eyes were so blue, and even the strange red scales just made her look more exotic. Her gold hair fell forward as she looked at the picture again, her hand absentmindedly pushing the strands behind her ear. Shon swallowed again, or tried to, there wasn't anything there to swallow. "No problem. Lily." she beamed at him.

* * *

General Davies Selibra sat at the officer's table in the chow hall but he wasn't really enjoying the venison soup slowly growing cold in front of him. He could hardly taste it as his mind continued running over possibilities and plans in his mind. Beside him weapon master Daunas was hunched over his bowl, scooping up a new bite even as he swallowed the one before. Picking up the bowl he drake the last of the broth before leaning back in his chair with a contented sigh.

"Eh, Selibra." Daunas waved a hand in front of the general's eyes, finally snapping him out of his thoughts.

"What, oh." he shook his head blinking down at his soup, "Sorry, just thinking." beside him Daunas huffed while the General scooped some of the soup into his spoon, taking a little time to look for a piece of venison with the bite.

"Really? It looked more like you were trying to stare a hole through the east wall." he chuckled at his own comment but then leaned forward to speak quietly to his old friend, "A copper for your thoughts Selibra. Why don't you try sharing the burden for once?"

Davies sighed through his nose, finishing the bite of soup before setting his spoon down completely, what was the point if he couldn't taste it. "Dragons Daunas. Dragons." he shook his head but beside him, the weapon master shrugged leaning back again.

"Don't believe in them myself," he said patting his belly. Davis looked sideways at him and he continued, "Not REAL ones anyway. Even if they did exist it was centuries ago, it's more likely they were invented as a fable to scare young children and to give heroes and gods something to fight."

The General sighed again, he was doing an awful lot of that lately… "Either way, someone believes in them and they are doing experiments on young girls to try and bring them back." almost on cue, the girl in question came into the mess hall. Her appearance was enough of a surprise that he almost didn't notice Shon behind her. The boy was pointing to the table with the food for the evening apparently showing her what to do.

Fourteen other squires went quiet. The more observant tapping the shoulders of the less so, and pointing out the two newcomers until all the boys were quiet and staring. The silence lasted a full heartbeat before the whispering started. It reached the officer's table as an incoherent hiss and the weapon master chuckled, crossing his arms and shaking his head "Boys…"

Davies also shook his head, but he wasn't smiling, "There is a reason we train the girls in a different facility." as the girl walked towards the squire's tables with her soup he considered calling her up to eat at the officer's table. But the more social of the boys were already waving her over and motioning for others to make room, while those with shy dispositions bent over their bowls in embarrassment. "It's not like they never see girls their age…" but Daunas scoffed at him.

"Twice a year for one night on a holiday is definitely not enough for young men of their age." he clapped the general on the shoulder, who still wasn't smiling, "Don't you remember being young? Emotions raging! Girls giggling, ah…" he sighed looking at the ceiling but obviously seeing something else from his memories.

Davies shook the hand off his shoulder, "It was a long time ago. And unlike you, I was here at that age, focused on my training and oath…" that wasn't completely true… there was one farmer girl that would come to the summer and winter solstice celebrations… Finally, he relaxed his shoulders with yet another sigh, "Either way she won't be staying much longer. I've already contacted the Temple and they have a representative from the Mages guild coming up to fetch her."

Daunas nodded, "But in the meantime, the lads can get some of the flirting out of their system. And who knows," he leaned closer to the general. They were alone at the table but he spoke quietly anyway, "maybe they will ask the questions that actually get useful answers…" the two men looked at the girl sitting with the squires. She was laughing and the young men around her couldn't help but stare.

* * *

This was Lily's first time in the chow hall. Shon had kindly explained the procedure, you get your food yourself at the mess table, then find a seat amongst the other eaters. Simple. But to the girl who had always been delivered her food and eaten alone, it was an exciting new experience.

As she approached the long tables, Lily tried to find a spot large enough for the two of them and was shocked and pleased when the squires began to make room, calling her over. She gladly obliged but didn't sit right away. Instead, Lily tapped one boy on the shoulder saying "Hey can you move a little more? For Shon." he hadn't been looking at her, seemingly entranced by his soup, so he jumped at her touch and looked at her as though she possesed a second head.

Tilting her only head at him, she smiled and turned to the boy on the other side tapping him on the shoulder as well. He started moving before she had to ask and it seemed to snap the first one out of whatever stupor his mind had fallen into and he scooted over as well. Between the two of them, there was soon enough room for the both Lily and Shon and she sat next to the quicker of the two boys turning to Shon, who hadn't moved to sit and patted the spot next to her.

He sat and almost immediately the young man across from them said, "Wow strange seeing you here in the middle Shon." Shon just shrugged in response dipping his spoon into the steaming soup. The young man shook his head and turned his face back to Lily, acting as the unofficial spokesman of the group, "My name is Brardin, this is Rehlein, Zihler…" he listed off each of the other thirteen squires pointing as he went and ending with, "and you already know Shon apparently…" he looked at Shon questioningly, seemingly waiting for something.

Shon lifted his head to look at Brardin but said nothing, Lily was only paying half attention to them and instead was whispering the names of the other boys under her breath, determined to remember as many as possible. "My name is Lily." she beamed at the boys around the table, so happy to finally be able to give someone her 'name'. Beneath the table, she moved her leg over slightly to touch Shon beside her. He dropped his spoon.

Brardin looked away from Shon again, focusing on her, "it's nice to meet you Lily," the boys around him each greeted her in one way or another, some with a "hi," and smile, others with just a wave, and still others mumbled something before focusing on their food intensely. "Soooooo," Brardin let the word draw out for a long time, he glanced at Shon then finally asked, "How did you meet Shon? He isn't usually the type to make conversation."

Lily tilted her head just a little. His voice didn't sound cruel, like he was making fun of her new friend, but Shon had sighed beside her. Maybe he was just trying to find a way to start a conversation… "He saved me. That's why I'm here." Shon looked over at her and she smiled at him, "We were just talking before dinner and he invited me to come have some."

The boys were staring at them openly. Apparently they had not been told about the tower incident. She wondered for a moment if she had said too much and decided to take a bite of the soup while she thought. "So, he's almost like a knight in shining armor." said the boy next to Brardin, Rehlein, his voice teasing as he focused on Shon.

"Except he's a squire in leather armor." said another boy, whose name she couldn't remember. The boys around the table laughed until…

"AW! Damn it, Shon…" Brardin had tried to take another bite only to find his spoon frozen in a block of ice that had once been a steaming bowl of venison soup.

Beside him Rehlein laughed at him, at least until he noticed his own food just as solid, "oh come on!" all down the table boys where checking their bowls and groaning.

Shon sat wide-eyed, his pale cheeks turning pink, "I'm sorry I didn't mean…" but he stopped talking when Lily started giggling.

"That's so neat!" she said, tapping the ice in her bowl, "did you do it?"

Brardin was glaring at Shon, "It's not 'neat.' There isn't enough for everyone to get new bowels, Shon."

Shon lowered his eyes with a soft "Sorry…" Concerned, Lily reached out under the table placing a hand on his knee, causing him to look up. His eyes were like the clear sky on the coldest of winter days. But now they were upset and embarrassed and Lily felt an ache in her chest she only really felt when one of her treasures had been in some kind of discomfort.

She smiled at him, trying to make it a reassuring look before she turned to Brardin across the table. "It's ok. We can just warm these back up." she stood, leaned over the table and dipped her index finger into the middle of the frozen soup. Soon it was steaming again and she moved on to the boys on either side of him. It took a moment for the squires to realize what she was doing, she was leaning WAY over the table… But when they did notice they stared at the bowls instead of her, picking up their spoons to let the steaming liquid pour back into the bowl. Stepping over the bench she worked her way around the table, squeezing between the squires on her side to reach over to those on the other side.

As she was finishing up the boy whose name she couldn't remember looked at Shon saying "Now THAT is a useful ability." Shon ignored him, watching Lily as she came back to her seat beside him.

"It does come in handy." she sat down and took a moment to examine her broth covered finger before sticking it in her mouth and sucking the juice off. The boys shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but she didn't notice. Pulling her finger slowly out of her mouth, it was delicious soup, she picked up her spoon and continued, "They did say I made the best bed warmer on cold nights." Shon choked on his soup, spluttering and quickly moving to wipe his mouth. Maybe she had made it too hot...


End file.
